


i'm on fire

by tophsgf



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Basically, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, SKAM Season 3, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, i'm obsessed w azula, in canon verse not here lmao, no beta we die like jet, no suki slander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tophsgf/pseuds/tophsgf
Summary: Toph starts to say something, but Zuko doesn’t hear a word of it. He’s absolutely captivated by the guy who just walked in. He has dark hair that’s tied up, and Zuko is near enough to him to see that he has blue eyes, a little like Katara’s. But if Katara’s eyes are a river, cool and calm, his are the ocean. Inconceivably beautiful and more than a little dangerous. He has the sort of eyes that people are consumed by. Suddenly, those eyes are on Zuko.He looks away immediately, so fast that he nearly falls off his chair from the sudden change in position. Subtlety has never been his strong suit. Beside him, Toph snorts.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based on skam season three, with somethings omitted and others added. the title is a song by bruce springsteen which you should listen to as it is iconic, and then listen to phoebe bridgers's cover of it, as it is also iconic.

**SATURDAY. 1:05 AM.**

The party is loud. Nearly unbearably so. But Zuko has to be here. He has to be here because Jet likes parties and he likes spending time with Jet. And he is supposed to like parties. So he’ll pretend to, for the sake of maintaining his friendships. 

There are drunk teenagers everywhere, scattered all over Smellerbee’s house. She’s nowhere to be seen, and Zuko doesn’t blame her. If he could, he’d be gone too. Still, it is her party. So she’s probably somewhere. 

He’s sitting in the bathtub next to Jet and Aang, who are debating the moral implications of cloning your pets (Jet is for, Aang is against) and drinking cheap beer. Eventually, Jet bumps Zuko’s shoulder, smirking. “So,” he says, “who are you going home with tonight?”

Zuko knows he’s going home alone. Jet probably knows he’s going home alone. Still, he shrugs. “Not sure,” he replies, taking a swig of beer that can’t have cost more than two dollars, “no one here is fuckable.”

“No one? Not one girl?” Aang replies, ignoring the choice of wording. “I think they’re all pretty.”

“Seriously, man. You’re way too picky.”

“Fine,” Zuko says, mostly to get Jet off his back. “There’s this one girl. Short, dark hair and blue eyes.”

“The one with the loops in her hair?”

“Yeah,” Zuko replies, vaguely remembering the girl he’s supposed to like. “Her.”

Jet scoffs. “I don’t think you stand a chance with her.”

“Maybe in the next life!” Aang pipes up, though it seems a little forced. 

“Probably not.” Jet says. 

“I do stand a chance!”

“The last guy she was with was some sort of model-slash-activist,” Jet replies. “He was almost twenty.”

“How do you know that?” Zuko bites back, rolling his eyes when Jet shrugs. “It’s not like she’s gonna go searching for a boyfriend exactly like her last one. I stand a chance.”

“Whatever.” Jet pulls himself out of the bathtub, tugging Aang along with him. “We’re going to get more beer, okay?”

“Oh-kay.” Zuko drawls. “I’ll miss you.”

Jet rolls his eyes. “Hold my weed, will you?” He throws a dimebag at Zuko, which he just barely manages to catch. Stupid left eye. Stupid lack of hand-eye coordination. 

“Fine.” Zuko says, mostly because he can’t say no to Jet. “But you better not forget to take it back before you leave.”

“That was too expensive to forget about,” Jet replies. “I’ll remember.” And then he and Aang are gone, not bothering to close the door as they leave. Zuko sits there for a bit with his eyes closed, trying to zone out the party and all its chaos. It’s easier to breathe without all the noise. At least, it should be. But then the door is closing and Zuko hears the tap running and all of his anxieties come flooding back. 

He opens his eyes. There, standing at the mirror, is the blue-eyed girl, staring softly back at him. She really is beautiful, and it’s a lot more obvious now than it was in the darkened hallway he last saw her in. “Hi,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” The girl cocks her head to the side. “I’m fine. You’re the one sleeping in a bathtub.”

“Fair point,” Zuko replies. “I wasn’t sleeping, I was just trying to drown out the noise. I’m not a huge fan of parties.”

“Me neither.” The girl admits, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m Katara.”

“Zuko.” He sighs. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Katara says. “Why are you here, Zuko?” She tilts her head again, dark hair flowing to the side. “If you don’t like parties.”

“Well,” Zuko responds, leaning towards her like he’d do if they were characters in the plays his mother used to be so fond of, “I was hoping to meet a pretty girl.”

“And have you?” Katara asks, the hint of blush across her cheeks. “I’m sure someone here has caught your attention.”

“Well,” Zuko pretends to think it over. “There’s this one girl. I ran into her in the bathroom. But I’ve heard she only dates models-slash-activists.”

Katara blanches, her blue eyes going wide. “I do not only date models and activists.”

“Really?” Zuko inquires, hoping he looks more excited than he feels. 

“Really.” Katara replies, and then she kisses him. It’s a good kiss, as far as Zuko’s experience goes. Before he can really attempt to appreciate it, the music stops. He hears Smellerbee in the hallway, her voice ringing out through the now music-less party, saying something about how the cops are downstairs. 

Katara pulls back, eyes wide. “Shit. I have to find my brother,” she’s out the door before Zuko can even consider a response.

He waits a minute for Jet to come back for him, to take his stupid weed at least. He doesn’t. Zuko wants to be surprised. He isn’t, which leaves Zuko slightly stranded, because he can’t go downstairs with weed in his pocket and expect the cops not to notice. Especially since he’s a terrible liar. 

Walking out into the hallway that’s now full of teenagers frantically trying to sober up, he ponders his options. Decides that leaving the weed in some flower pot and coming back for it later is the only solution. Smellerbee tolerates him enough to let him back into her house. Maybe not enough for him to leave drugs in her possession with the imminent possibility of the cops finding them, but enough for him to lie and say he forgot his sweater or something. He’s okay with that. 

He deposits the weed into the pot of fire lily plant that has clearly seen better days and heads out the back door, nearly colliding with Toph as he does so. She narrows her eyes. “See you later, Zuko.”

He’s not sure he wants to know how she knew it was him. 

**MONDAY. 11:40 AM.**

**_father:_ ** _ Why didn’t you tell me you went to see your sister? _

**_father:_ ** _ You’re not to see her without my supervision. _

**_zuko:_ ** _ it won’t happen again. _

Jet and Aang greet him with matching grins as he sits down across from them at their normal lunch table, clearly in the middle of yet another stupid debate. “Aang,” Jet is saying, “you can’t just be nice to a girl and expect her to like you. You have to play hard to get, keep her guessing.”

“That seems a bit sexist,” Aang says. “Besides, it’s not like you have a girlfriend.”

Zuko snorts. Jet glares at him, clearly about to respond with some scathing retort, when Toph approaches their table. “Hey.” She says, looking straight at Zuko.  _ She can’t even see, why is her gaze so intimidating?  _ “Smellerbee got permission to renovate the student common room. You guys should help. The first meeting is after school on Friday.”

Jet scoffs. “Friday? I can’t. I’ve got plans.”

“Okay,” Toph says, sounding unimpressed. “Come next week, then.”

“I can’t. Busy.” Jet replies. He is not even trying to sound convincing. “I’m devastated that I can’t help you, really.”

“I’m heartbroken,” Toph deadpans. “At least your friends can help.”

“Yup!” Aang chirps. “I’d be happy to help you, Toph.”

“What about you, Zuko?” Toph is still looking at him, her expression lukewarm. “I’m sure you want to help.”

“I’d rather not—” Zuko starts, but Toph interrupts him with a wave of her hand.

“Whatever, Zuko.” She rolls her eyes. “Come see me later, okay? I have the sweater you left at Smellerbee’s place.”

_ Sweater?  _ He didn’t leave any sweater—oh. Oh no. As if she senses his distress, Toph grins. “See you boys later.”

“What sweater?” Aang asks, as soon as Toph’s gone. “Is it the one with the writing on the sleeves? That’s my favourite hoodie of yours.”

“No,” Zuko groans. “I left the weed at Smellerbee’s. Toph must have noticed.”

Jet slams his hands down on the table, eliciting several glances from around the lunchroom. Zuko tries not to flinch. “You better get it back, Zuko. Or you owe me.”

“I'll fix it.” Zuko snaps. “Don’t worry about it.”

**WEDNESDAY. 12:25 PM.**

Zuko is sitting in History when Toph finds him, immediately launching herself into the seat beside him. “I have your drugs.” She says in lieu of a greeting. “The stuff you left at Smellerbee’s.”

“What?” He manages, trying to consider how much trouble he’d be in if he jumped out the open window. It’s only the second floor. He’d be okay, right?

“I have it.” Toph reiterates, clearly disinterested. “If there’s one thing I don’t like, Zuko, it’s when someone fucks over their friends. Smellerbee could have been in deep shit if they found it.”

“But they didn’t.” Zuko manages, swallowing the guilt. He hadn’t thought of it like that.

“Because I took it,” Toph rolls her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says. “I really am. And thanks for taking it. But I really need it back, it’s not even mine—”

“I deserve something in return,” Toph interrupts. “For rescuing your drugs. I’m thinking 10% of them.”

“Do you smoke?”

Toph shrugs. “Not really. But it’s good to have. And I want you and your friends to help us renovate the common room.”

“Okay,” Zuko relents, “whatever. We’ll help with your passion project. Then you’ll give it back to me?”

“Yep.” Toph drawls, “then I’ll give it back to you.”

“So just give it to me now,” he snaps. Toph fixes him with a glare that seems impervious.

“You think I’m stupid? I’ll give it back when you and your friends show up at the meeting on Friday.” Zuko glares at her. She rolls her eyes. “I know you’re glaring at me, Zuko. It isn’t helping your case.”

He’s about to respond when the teacher’s voice silences the chatter in the classroom. “You’re sitting with the person who will be your partner for this project.” Before either he or Toph can protest, the teacher has assigned them to work together. 

**_uncle:_ ** _ I’m worried about you, nephew.  _

**_uncle:_ ** _ I hope we can have tea soon. You should come by the Jasmine Dragon. _

**FRIDAY. 7:15 PM.**

Unsurprisingly, Jet does not show up to the meeting. Aang had gone to talk to someone in his Math class, so Zuko sits alone near the front of the room, watching a decent amount of people find places to sit. Also unsurprisingly, Toph finds him immediately. “Where are your idiot friends?” She asks, sitting down next to him. “I thought I heard Aang.”

“Aang’s here somewhere,” Zuko responds. “I don’t think Jet’s coming,” he admits. 

“Good.” Toph retorts. “He’s an asshole. Why do you hang out with him?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time.” It’s a shitty excuse, but it’s better than the truth. He’s not sure he even wants to admit the truth to himself. 

“Hey!” It’s Katara, her dark hair up in some sort of an elaborate braid. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Ha.” Zuko manages. “Yeah.”

If Katara is deterred by his lack of enthusiasm, she doesn’t show it. “I’m going to sit over there.” She says, her expression soft and open.

“Okay,” Zuko replies, pretending not to understand her implied invitation. “See you later.”

Katara looks a little hurt, but she hides it with a smile and a nod. “Yeah. See you.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Toph rounds on him. “She was flirting with you.”

“Was she?” Zuko asks, pretending to be surprised. Toph looks unconvinced by his feigned ignorance. “I didn’t notice.”

Toph starts to say something in response, but Zuko doesn’t hear a word of it. He’s absolutely captivated by the guy who just walked in. Zuko has seen a lot of pretty people. They’re not exactly in short supply at this school, for some cursed reason. But he’s never seen anyone so breathtakingly beautiful. The guy has dark hair that’s tied up in a short ponytail, and Zuko is near enough to him to see that he has blue eyes, a little like Katara’s. But if Katara’s eyes are a river, cool and calm, his are the ocean. Inconceivably beautiful and more than a little dangerous. He has the sort of eyes that people are consumed by. Suddenly, those eyes are on Zuko. 

He looks away immediately, so fast that he nearly falls off his chair from the sudden change in position. Wow. Way to be subtle. Beside him, Toph snorts. “What is up with you? Your heart is pounding like crazy.”

Thankfully, Smellerbee saves him from having to respond, by trying to get everyone’s attention. “Hello.” She’s weirdly excited about this renovation, clearly. “This project is going to need a team to get it done. That’s us. We’re a team.”

Zuko suppresses a groan. 

“So,” Smellerbee is saying, oblivious to the number of people who look like they’d rather die than be there, “I was thinking we should start out with a team-building exercise. Everybody stand up!”

Zuko stands up. And then immediately slips out the back door. He walks along the empty hallway, trying to adjust to the harsh light of the fluorescents. Distantly, he wonders how much the government saves by only allowing public institutions to have lights like these. It must be a lot, because he sees them everywhere, the school, the hospital his mother was in, Azula’s treatment facility—

Zuko banishes the thought from his head, pushing the bathroom door open. His reflection stares back at him, pale skin, amber eyes. Zuko looks more like his father than he will ever look like his mother, and he fucking hates the universe for that. At least the scar on his face sets him apart, right? He’s broken out of his self-pitying stupor with the sound of the door opening. It was the blue-eyed boy from earlier, barely acknowledging Zuko as he went to wash his hands, taking an ungodly amount of paper towel to dry his hands. Zuko stares at him. He stares back.

“Oh.” Blue eyes says, eyeing the now empty paper towel dispenser. “Did you want some?”

_ Oh. He had a nice voice too. Not fair.  _ “No,” Zuko sputters, once it becomes obvious that the boy expects a response. “No, I’m fine.” 

The guy shrugs. “I’m going outside. You wanna join me?”

_ No! _ His brain screams.  _ Do not follow the paper towel boy outside! _

“Okay,” Zuko says, following the nameless boy out to the courtyard, allowing himself to settle down on the bench next to him.

“Are you friends with the organizer?” the guy’s not really looking at him, which gives Zuko an opportunity to really look at his face without seeming like an absolute creep. He really is beautiful. 

“Smellerbee?” Zuko snorts. “No way. I’m here because of Toph.”

“Her team-building exercise was so funny, dude.” The boy bumps his shoulder into Zuko’s, and Zuko tries not to lean into his touch. Is this how friendship is supposed to feel? Intoxicating? 

“I wasn’t there.” Zuko says. “I couldn’t make myself stay.”

“No,” the boy’s eyes are wide in what appears to be mock indignation. “You missed out.”

“I’m sure.” Zuko replies. “You’re new, right? Why did you transfer in the middle of the year?”

He never gets an answer, because Katara decides this is a perfect moment to find him. “I thought you left!” She says, looking from the boy to Zuko. It isn’t even clear which one of them she’s talking to. “Would you,” she turns to Zuko, now clearly speaking to him, “wanna be in a pair with me? Smellerbee wants duos working on different things and I thought-”

The boy interrupts her, looking at Zuko. “I thought we were partners.” 

“Oh,” Zuko says. “Um. Yeah. Sorry, I’m with…” He trails off. What’s this guy’s name?

“Sokka.” The boy, Sokka, says. “Sorry.”

Zuko barely has time to comprehend the interaction before Katara is frowning. “Oh. Do you think Smellerbee would be okay with a group of three? Suki and Ty Lee are paired up, so I don’t have anyone else to be partners with.”

“I think that would be okay,” Zuko says, mostly because he doesn’t want to be any colder to Katara than he already has. “Smellerbee probably won’t mind.”

“Then it’s settled,” Katara says. “You’ll be happy you have me, Zuko. My brother can be quite the handful.”

Ah. That explains the matching blue eyes.

**_jet:_ ** _ sorry i didn’t go to the meeting. did you get my stuff back? _

**_zuko:_ ** _ not yet. i’ll get it soon. _

**_jet:_ ** _ you better.  _ 🤬

**SUNDAY. 11:12 AM.**

He visits Azula on Sunday, despite his father’s insistence that every visit be supervised. She greets him by waving her phone in his face.

“I didn’t know you were allowed phones.” 

“We aren’t.” Azula shrugs. “But I know the administrator is cheating on his wife. So he turns a blind eye for me.”

Zuko snorts. Azula’s probably his favourite person in the entire world, though he’d deny it if she asked. It would just go straight to her head. 

“Anyways,” she elbows him in the ribs. “I’m talking to this girl on tinder, and I want your opinion.”

“A girl?”

Azula fixes him with a death stare. “Brother, if you’re homophobic, we’re going to have words.”

“No!” he sputters, “no, of course not. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Azula’s expression softens into one of pure relief. “Good. So, this girl?”

They sit like that for a while, her scrolling through Tinder, him braiding her hair. They’ve got about twenty minutes left when Zuko finally garners the courage to ask her how she knew she liked girls.

“I realized I was in love with my best friend.” Azula says, and Zuko freezes. Azula definitely notices, but she thankfully doesn’t comment, instead patting him on the knee. “I think everyone figures it out eventually.”

“Huh.” He says. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.” Her expression is disinterested, but her tone is soft, hopeful. “Give Father my regards.”

**_uncle:_ ** _ Come over for tea next week. On Friday night.  _

**_zuko:_ ** _ i’ll think about it. _

**_uncle:_** _Looking forward to seeing you!_ 🙂

**SUNDAY. 4:56 PM.**

Zuko rides the bus home. Doesn’t bother greeting the empty house. His father is home on holidays and birthdays, if that. Ozai is hardly a person to prioritize his children over his career. It’s why his daughter is in a “mental health facility” rather than home. She’s a flaw in the machine, and that has to be fixed.

Zuko is robotic around his father, and he stays invisible when he’s gone. It’s best not to make trouble. There’s Uncle, but he cares too much. He’d see through Zuko immediately. He’d see through the feigned apathy and see him as he is. Someone who is stuck in the past, watching as life passes him by.

He sits down in bed, in a room that has never meant very much to him, and googles Sokka’s name. He doesn’t have any social media, but there is a Youtube video of him talking about a film he directed. 

“It’s about a boy who got stuck in an iceberg for one hundred years, and when he gets out everyone and everything he ever knew is gone.”

There are a few more clips, tiny interviews with Sokka, but he can’t seem to find the film anywhere.

**_father:_ ** _ I’ve transferred you the money for groceries for the month. Don’t waste it.  _

**MONDAY. 12:14 PM.**

**_katara:_ ** _ hey! toph gave me your number, i hope you don’t mind _

**_katara:_ ** _ would you maybe wanna do something this weekend? _

Now that they’re partners, Zuko and Toph sit together in history.

“Do you have my stuff?” 

“I thought you said it wasn’t yours,” Toph sing-songs, unfairly smug. 

Zuko sighs. “Can’t you just give it to me?” 

“I didn’t see Jet at the meeting,” Toph replies.

“You didn’t see anyone at the meeting.”

“Really funny, Zuko,” despite the sarcasm, Toph actually does look somewhat amused. “Jet should have come, though. Control your hoes, is all I’m saying.” She rolls her eyes. “Where do you want it?”

“You have it?”

Toph nods, depositing the dime bag into his hand. Zuko frantically shoves it in his bag. Toph is entirely unaffected. “You better come to the next meeting,” she says.

“I will.” Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be averse to seeing Sokka again.

“Good.” Toph elbows him in the ribs. “You’re not half bad, Zuko.”

**WEDNESDAY. 11:16 AM.**

He finds Smellerbee in the courtyard when school lets out for lunch, reading a book on eco-terrorism. She barely looks up when he arrives. “What.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. For someone so energetic, Smellerbee can be very stand-offish. But who the fuck is he to judge? 

“I was just wondering when the next common room meeting is..?” Zuko asks, trying not to smile as Smellerbee’s face lights up. 

“Oh! That’s really nice of you, Zuko.” Smellerbee puts her book away, looking considerably less irritated by his presence. “We don’t have a meeting this week, but there’s gonna be a party on Friday, so I was thinking we’d do a group pre-party.” Smellerbee pauses, “do you think you could host it?”

“Uh, why?”

“My house is trashed,” Smellerbee rolls her eyes, “and Toph’s parents are always home. But you could host!”

“Yeah,” Zuko starts, “I guess so—”

“What are you guys talking about?” It’s Jet, because of course it is. Aang is standing next to him, staring at someone on the other side of the courtyard. Zuko follows his gaze.  _ Katara. _

“Zuko’s going to host the pre-party for our group before Jin’s party this Friday. Maybe you guys want to join?”

Jet snorts. “Why the fuck would you host that?”

Zuko shrugs.

“Why are you laughing?” Smellerbee asks, looking increasingly upset. “Do you think the common room project is stupid? It’s going to be a safe space, for everyone. No matter your class, age, race, sexual orientation—” Smellerbee is going on a spiel about acceptance, so Zuko takes this moment to follow Aang’s gaze back to Katara, who is sitting with Sokka at a picnic table. He and Sokka make eye contact, and Zuko feels his stomach do a flip. Sokka winks at him. Zuko knows he’s blushing. Fuck. What the fuck. 

He’s awoken from his Sokka caused daze by Katara, who has made her way over to him. 

“Hey!” She’s cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get my message?”

Zuko blinks. “No. Sorry.”

“Hi Katara!” That’s Aang, looking at Katara like she hangs the moon. Zuko thinks there’s a reason, but he’s too busy trying to not be an asshole to Katara that he can’t figure it out.

“Oh.” She looks disappointed, and Zuko feels a pang of regret. “Well,” she recovers quickly. “We’re having a pre-party on Friday. I was wondering if you’d want to come?”

“Um.” Zuko says, and Jet takes this moment to make his opinion known.

“Zuko has brain damage,” he chirps, “we’ll be there.”

“Great!” Katara says, twirling her hair as she walks away. “I’ll text you,” she calls over her shoulder, and Zuko doesn’t doubt she will. He doesn’t want to think about how much he wishes she wouldn’t. 

“What the fuck, Zuko?” Jet asks, as soon as Katara is out of earshot. “Are you gay or something?”

“What?” Zuko sputters, trying not to look as affected as he feels. “No, man. I’m just not interested in a relationship right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Jet sounds unconvinced. 

Aang looks apologetic. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

“I’m not gay,” Zuko snaps, suddenly on-edge. “It’s fine. Sorry.”

“I guess we’re having the pre-party there,” Smellerbee says, looking crestfallen. “Thanks anyway, Zuko.”

**FRIDAY. 1:01 AM.**

_ “I can die happily,” the boy from the iceberg says, “because I was able to love you.” _

_ “Promise me,” the girl responds, her eyes filled with tears. “Promise me you’ll wait for me.” _

_ “I’ll wait for you forever, if that’s what it takes.” _

_ “I love you too,” the girl responds. “I never told you, but I want you to know. I love you.” _

_ The boy doesn’t respond. The girl swallows a sob. _

_ The screen goes black. _

Zuko sits straight up in the dark of his bedroom, drowning in the quiet of the empty house. He wipes the tears off his face and swallows the shame of being so affected by this, by what should be a stupid student film. 

He goes into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of jasmine tea, the only kind of tea that doesn’t just taste like hot leaf juice. It reminds him of Uncle, of the conversations they used to have when he worked at the Jasmine Dragon, when he didn’t feel like such a colossal fuck-up.

He stands by the kitchen window, looking out at the view of the water. Zuko hates to admit it, but there’s something so calming about being all alone in this empty house. There’s a sort of calm he’s never experienced before, not when his father was around. 

It’s a truth Zuko has never felt allowed to think, much less voice aloud. Life is better when he’s alone. Life is better when he has no one to abandon him. 

Jet and Aang are his friends, sure. But his presence is inconsequential to them. He could disappear and neither of them would even notice he was gone. 

Zuko takes one last look at the water outside, and goes back to bed. He dreams of ocean blue eyes and a reality he will never live in, the sort of happiness he will never grasp.

**FRIDAY. 3:32 PM.**

Zuko gives Jet his weed back when school lets out. Aang is babbling about being excited to talk to girls at the party later, though it seems like he’s thinking about one girl in particular. He never mentions a name. Zuko shrugs it off. Aang is strange like that. 

“Okay,” Jet drawls, wrapping his arm around Aang’s shoulder, “we’ll sit next to you and give you instructions. Besides, you owe me booze.”

“I do?” Aang’s eyes are wide. “No, I thought I bought you beer for Mai’s party—”

“Yeah,” Jet rolls his eyes, ignoring Aang’s obvious discomfort. “But you still owe me.”

“Okay.” Aang says, clearly trying not to displease Jet. “I’ll ask Bumi to get some for me.”

“I’m going home,” Zuko interrupts. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Jet ignores him. Aang does a little wave. It’s annoyingly adorable. 

The bus stop is empty, as per usual. No one from school lives in his neighbourhood. Honestly, no one lives in his neighbourhood, period. It’s just empty McMansions owned by rich families that live abroad. No one rides the bus in his neighbourhood. The route seems to be there just as a means of filling some sort of transit quota. 

Today, however, there’s someone else on the bus. Besides the regulars, the old people that Zuko assumes ride the bus just to pass time. 

“Going home?” It’s Sokka, looking at him with his stupidly perfect blue eyes. 

“Yeah.” Zuko manages, trying not to think about how close Sokka is. “You too?”

Sokka nods. Zuko tries not to stare at him. He’s way too pretty up close. 

“Well,” Sokka drawls. “Nice chat.”

Then Zuko does something monumentally stupid. “Do you wanna come over?”

Sokka blinks. Looks him over. “Okay.” He says. 

Well. Fuck. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’d hoped Sokka would think he was a weirdo for inviting a kid he barely knows over to his house, but this doesn’t seem to be the case.  _ Great. _

“Oh,” Zuko says, distantly remembering that he’s supposed to be going to Katara’s party. He’ll still go to that. Probably. “Well, this is my stop.” Zuko resists the urge to grab Sokka’s hand.  _ What the fuck? Stupid boy in the iceberg. Giving him stupid romantic tendencies.  _

Sokka follows him off the bus, eyes wide as he takes in the row of mansions, the looming iron gates. Zuko doesn’t doubt it makes him look pretentious, like he only invited Sokka over to show off his wealth. 

“They’re all empty,” he says, mostly to fill the silence they’ve unwillingly settled into. “It’s sort of supposed to be vacation homes. At least, that’s how everyone seems to see them.”

Sokka shakes his head in what appears to be amazement. Maybe disdain. “I can’t imagine having more than one house.” 

“I don’t see the point, either.” Zuko replies, opening the iron gates his father insisted be built. ‘For security,’ he had said to the developers. Zuko doubts that’s the true motive. It probably has something to do with intimidation.

Sokka whistles when the house comes into view, giving Zuko a look that seems to be half impressed and half disappointed. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty,” he drawls, bowing exaggeratedly. It’s something Jet would do, except Sokka’s words have no malice in them. It’s a welcome change, honestly. 

Zuko yells a greeting as they enter the house, entirely for show. He knows no one is there. Still, he turns to Sokka with a grin he knows looks forced, and manages a “looks like we have the house to ourselves,” which sounds far more suggestive than he intends it to. Sokka, thankfully, ignores his idiocy, and simply follows him into the kitchen.

“Did you do these?” He asks, gesturing at the paintings Zuko has recently decided to put up on the fridge. Slightly juvenile for such nice art, but it’ll be easier to hide in the event that Ozai comes home early, 

“No,” he shrugs, “they’re my sister’s. She’s a really talented painter.”

“So I see,” Sokka replies, looking at Zuko’s favourite, of a girl in a thunderstorm, lightning on the tips of her fingers. “Is this a self-portrait?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I think so. Azula’s never been the best at self-expression.”

“She lives with you?”

“No,” Zuko swallows, hoping he doesn’t sound too robotic. He’s practiced this answer enough times that it barely sounds like words to him anymore. “She’s studying abroad.”

“Nice,” Sokka doesn’t seem bothered by his vague response. “Seems like she’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Zuko snorts, thinking of how Azula would react to Sokka, to him calling her cool, “yeah, she is. Do you want something to drink? I have tea.”

“Tea would be great,” Sokka replies, settling himself on the counter like he’s there every day. 

Zuko wouldn’t mind if he was, honestly. He pushes that thought down. Too much to unpack.

“You seem pretty lonely,” Sokka tells him, as they sit on the ledge in Zuko’s room, drinking tea. “Are you lonely?”

“Do you normally ask people you barely know about their emotional state?”

_ Sokka blushes.  _ Sokka. Fucking. Blushes. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” he says. “It’s just hard to ignore, dude.”

It’s easy to ignore, Zuko wants to say. His father ignores it every day. His uncle mostly ignores it, though he’ll check in out of guilt every once and awhile. Azula ignored it for so long it nearly killed her. It did kill his mother. 

“—I mean, this house is huge, but it doesn’t feel lived in,” Sokka is saying, and Zuko can’t even manage to be angry at him, because he’s right. “Besides your room, at least.”

It occurs to him that Sokka is a lot smarter than it seems people give him credit for. Zuko manages a nod. “You’re not wrong,” he replies, trying to sound unbothered. He’s better at it then he used to be, so he hopes Sokka will take him at face value, “but it’s a hard house to make your own.”

“Sounds like a rich person problem,” Sokka snorts, elbowing Zuko gently. His blue eyes are soft, though. No trace of mocking. It makes Zuko feel warm all over, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees. “It definitely is.”

They sit like that for a long time, the conversation flowing easier than it should. Still, Zuko has a sinking feeling like he’s forgetting something, like he’s supposed to somewhere else.

“I think we have to go,” Sokka says suddenly, as if he’s able to read Zuko’s mind. 

“Go where?”

Sokka smirks. “Don’t let my sister hear you say that.”

_ Oh. Katara’s party. The event of the century. Right.  _

**FRIDAY. 7:20 PM.**

Katara is sitting beside him on the couch, her slender arm draped on his shoulder. She’s beautiful, Zuko knows this, but he doesn’t feel…. anything? 

So, he says, struggling to make conversation, “what kind of music do you like?”

“My favourite music,” she draws it out like Zuko should be waiting in suspense, “is… Lana Del Rey.”

Zuko tries to hide his anguish at this response. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Katara says, jokingly panicked. “Is that bad?”

“I’m getting a headache,” Zuko says, mostly joking.

“A migraine?” Katara laughs. “From the mention of Lana Del Rey?”

“A chronic Lana Del Rey migraine,” Zuko deadpans, rubbing his eyes. “Can you leave? No,” he says, before Katara can respond. “You can’t. This is your house. I’m going to leave.

Katara snorts. “You’re trying to kick me out just because I like her? What sort of music do you like?”

“Oh,” Zuko isn’t really sure. He probably shouldn’t have teased Katara so much. At least she knows what kind of music she likes. “I don’t really have any specific artists, but I like Phoebe Bridgers—”

He pauses, locking eyes with Sokka. He’s got his arm around a girl Zuko recognizes from somewhere, probably school. She’s leaning into his touch, laughing at something someone has said. Zuko suddenly feels very numb. Like he’s watching the party from afar, going through the motions. Suddenly, Katara’s lips are on his, and he leans into the contact. 

“Woah!” It’s Sokka, and he and Katara spring apart. She’s blushing, and he instantly feels bad. “I’m starting to think you’re bonding too much.”

“Sokka!” Katara chides, but it’s half-hearted. She gives him a hug. “I was wondering where you wandered off to.”

“Just checking in with Suki,” Sokka winks, and Zuko wants so badly to disappear. Neither of Sokka nor Katara seems to pick up on that.

“So many great people are here!” Katara chirps, leaning her head on Zuko’s shoulder. He tries to lightly shake her off, but she is persistently oblivious. “Have you met Mai?”

“No,” Sokka says. “I don’t think so.”

“She’s gay. She’s really cool.” Huh. Zuko didn’t know Mai was a lesbian. Good for her. 

“Oh?” Sokka looks in the direction Katara has drunkenly pointed in. “That’s nice.”

“I love gay people,” Katara says, “they’re funny.”

“You don’t think that’s a bit of a superficial generalization?” It’s phrased like a question, but Sokka is not really asking. 

“How so?” Katara responds, furrowing her brow. “By saying gay people are funny?”

“That’s like saying all women like cooking,” Sokka replies, like the ridiculousness of her comment is obvious. Maybe it is. 

“What?” Katara’s eyes are wide. “No, that’s too much. It’s not like that. Being funny is a good thing. Telling women they belong in the kitchen is a bad thing.”

“It’s not what you said, Katara,” Sokka drawls her name like he’s reading off an attendance sheet, “it’s that you’re generalizing. Not all gay people are funny.”

“This is boring,” Katara says, but she does look like she’s taken Sokka’s words to heart. “Zuko, come dance with me.” 

The other option is sitting here with Sokka, who is now looking at Suki. And Zuko would rather die than continue to watch that, so he nods and lets Katara pull him up. 

The music is loud, and the room is crowded enough that he’s pressed flush against Katara, but not crowded enough that he can’t see through the people. He allows himself to dance with Katara, to look like he’s having a good time. Maybe he is. 

(He knows he isn’t.)

He looks away from Katara, for no reason other than he doesn’t particularly want to look at her, and yet again, his gaze finds Sokka. Sokka, who is leaning towards Suki, their noses nearly touching. And then they’re kissing, and Zuko can’t force himself to look away. He acts on impulse, pressing his lips to Katara’s, eyes still locked on Sokka. 

Sokka's eyes meet his. Piercing and impossibly blue, seemingly unphased by Zuko’s impassive stare, nor is he too affected by the fact that Zuko is currently kissing his sister. If anything, he seems to raise his eyebrow, as if he’s challenging Zuko. 

Gently, he pushes Katara off, mumbling an apology as he goes in search of a room to sit in. He doesn’t look back at Sokka. 

**_uncle:_ ** _ I missed you today, Zuko.  _

**_zuko:_ ** _ it slipped my mind, i’m sorry.  _

**_uncle_ ** _ : Don’t worry, I understand that you’re busy. Let’s meet soon, shall we?  _

**_uncle:_ ** _ We have the special jasmine tea you like right now 😊 _

**SATURDAY 12:23 AM.**

He stays afterwards to help clean up, mostly out of guilt. Out of the knowledge that Katara likes him and he has no feelings towards her, good or bad. Probably not the best foundation for a burgeoning relationship.

“Hey,” it’s Sokka. Of course it’s Sokka. “I thought you took a taxi with Toph.”

“No,” Zuko manages, intently focused on dumping a can of beer into the sink. “I’m not going to Jin’s party, I’m just gonna take the bus home.”

“Ah.” Sokka says, “You better not break my sister’s heart.”

“Huh?” Zuko feels his cheeks redden. “There’s nothing going on with me and Katara, seriously.”

“Dude. I’m just messing with you.” Sokka bumps his shoulder into Zuko’s, and he tries to ignore the way his heart rate has suddenly increased. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Zuko nods mutely, absentmindedly sorting the bottles and cans. The silence is nearly deafening.

“Did you know Suki and I have been sort of a thing since we were like 15?” Sokka says more than asks, because how the hell would Zuko know something like that?” 

Zuko shakes his head. Sokka takes this as a sign to continue. “Lately,” he frowns, “I’m noticing that we're growing apart more and more. We’re not even together, not really.”

“She’s cute,” Zuko mumbles, hoping he sounds convincing. “Suki.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything in response, so Zuko finally looks up. This is clearly a mistake, because Sokka is so effortlessly beautiful, and he’s standing so close. His blue eyes are trained on Zuko, and Zuko can’t help it. He leans in, and Sokka moves to meet him and—

And his phone goes off. Zuko springs backwards, trying to keep his expression something other than absolutely petrified. What the fuck is he doing? He fishes into his pocket, to see four notifications from Jet flashing on the screen.

**_jet:_ ** _ when are you coming to jin’s? _

**_jet:_ ** _ dude text me when you get here _

**_jet:_ ** _ aang is trying to flirt with katara you should come stake your claim _

**_jet:_ ** _ seriously where are you _

**_zuko:_ ** _ not feeling well. went home.  _

He sends the text off and doesn’t check for a response, because honestly, he doesn’t care. Jet probably doesn’t either. He’s never been one for emotional support.

“Goodnight, Sokka.” Zuko manages, looking at the floor. Then he grabs his coat and steps out into the cold. It’s wintry enough that his eyes sting. It’s a grounding feeling. 

**MONDAY. 10:42 AM.**

As usual, his locker refuses to open. He stands there for a good ten minutes, hitting the combination, shaking the lock. It refuses to budge. Sokka comes into view as Zuko stares absentmindedly down the hallway, his hair down rather than up in its normal ponytail. 

Zuko breathes out, willing his heart to stop racing. It does not get the memo.

“Hi!” he chirps as Sokka approaches, cursing inwardly for how eager he sounds. They haven’t spoken since the party, but that hasn’t stopped Zuko from thinking about him, about the freckles Sokka has on his cheekbones, small enough that you can’t see them unless you’re almost impossibly close to him.

“Hey,” Sokka grins, eyeing Zuko’s pathetic attempt at opening his locker. “Are you going to the Halloween thing?”

Zuko makes an attempt at a neutral expression, He probably just looks deranged. “Uh, no. Or maybe? I don’t know,” he takes a shot at casual conversation. As with most things, it doesn’t work. “Are you?”

Sokka shrugs, looking ridiculously at ease. “Join me?”

“Okay!” That’s probably the most enthusiastic Zuko has ever sounded. He grimaces internally. 

“Okay,” Sokka repeats. “We’ll do a pre-drink together, okay?”

“Yeah.” Zuko manages, “sure.”

“Cool,” Sokka punches Zuko’s locker once. It pops open. “See you later,” he says. Zuko tries not to gape at him as he walks away. 

“Hey,” it’s Jet, opening his adjourning locker. “You do anything fun this weekend?”

“We were at the same party,” Zuko grumbles in response, resisting the urge to glare. “No, Jet. Not really.”

“I tried to call you on Sunday.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. “ I didn’t see that.”

Jet doesn’t look convinced, “it's Aang's birthday on Saturday, I was thinking we could do something cool for him.”

“I’m in.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zuko snorts. “We can make sure he’ll get a girlfriend.”

The corners of Jet’s mouth quirk upwards. “Yeah, on his birthday.”

“We could call up Katara,” Zuko suggests, watching as Jet’s expression morphs into one of confusion.

“I thought you liked her,” he says.

“I don’t,” Zuko doesn’t even have to think about it, “she’s not really my type.”

“I swear,” Jet says, closing his locker and starting off down the hallway. Zuko follows him, “that kid is something else. He told me he had a dream about Katara last night, and she, like, soothed his emotional injuries with magical water.”

“Emotional injuries?”

“Don’t get me started, Zuko. Leave it to Aang to have that sort of wet dream.”

**WEDNESDAY. 1:31 PM.**

“Why don’t you care about what people think of you?” Zuko asks Toph, as they both completely ignore whatever they’re supposed to be doing in this study period. “You’re so unbothered all the time.”

“I do care,” Toph says quietly, Zuko isn't even sure he was supposed to hear her.

Either way, she straightens up and glares at the whiteboard. “Why?” Her voice is louder now, with the confidence Zuko is used to. “Is something about my personality bothering you?”

“No!” Zuko exclaims, too loudly if the sudden death glare from the study hall administrator is anything to go by. “No,” he repeats, quieter. “It’s impressive, actually. I wish I was more like you.”

“More like me.” Toph echoes, her brow furrowing. “Why do you care so much about other people’s opinions?”

“I don’t really know,” Zuko admits. “I guess I was just raised to believe that image is important. That the way you appear matters more than who you actually are.”

Toph frowns. “There’s a difference between caring what people think and letting their opinions define you, dumbass.” She punches him in the arm. 

“Ow. What was that for?”

“My way of conveying that we’re friends now, Sparky. Get on board.”

“Sparky?”

Toph rolls her eyes, like the answer is obvious. “Because you sorta seem like a pyromaniac. In a good way.”

“Is there really a good way to be a pyroman—” Zuko cuts himself off when he sees Katara approaching, feeling the now typical guilt that comes from having any conversation with her. He knows he’s being an asshole. 

“Hey!” Katara greets him with an excited smile, bouncing on her toes. “I talked to Suki, and we were wondering if we could have the pre-drink at her place?”

“Oh,” Zuko says eloquently. Beside him, Toph doesn’t even bother to hide her snort. “Sure.”

“Great,” Katara steamrolls past his lack of enthusiasm. “I’ll text you!”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Toph elbows him in the ribs. The people in his life seem to have a fondness for that. “You have to tell me all about these pre-drinks next week, Zuko. I know it’s gonna be a fucking mess.”

“How do you know that?” Zuko asks, even though he knows she’s probably right. 

Toph just grins at him, shrugging her tiny shoulders. 

**FRIDAY 9:21 PM.**

The pre-drink is excruciatingly awkward. Toph will be delighted. What is already a less-than-pleasant dynamic seems worse, somehow. The conversation between Suki and Katara flows easily, but Sokka is uncharacteristically quiet, and Zuko doesn’t have anything he particularly feels the need to stay.

Instead, he leans back on Suki’s unfairly comfortable couch, drinking ginger ale and watching as Sokka drinks a can of beer. Though he only seems to take sips when Suki or Katara try to involve him in the conversation. 

“Maybe you should slow down on the beer,” Katara says finally, her expression almost angry. Zuko doesn’t quite understand why she would be upset, but there seems to be a lot about Sokka and Katara’s dynamic that he doesn’t understand. “Don’t be irresponsible.”

“You’re not my mother,” Sokka snaps, and Katara goes dangerously still. Next to her, Suki looks like she’s trying to conceal a grimace. 

At Katara’s reaction, Sokka immediately softens. “I’m sorry, Kat. I didn’t mean—”

“For once in your life, Sokka, shut up.” Katara suddenly looks at Suki. “Can you show me where your bathroom is?”

If Sokka and Suki have been sort of dating for as long as Sokka says, then Katara definitely knows where the bathroom is. Or maybe she really doesn’t?

Whatever the case, Zuko stays quiet, watching as they move out of sight. 

“What time is it?” Sokka’s voice breaks the silence, a great deal softer than it was before.

Zuko glances at his watch. “9:21.”

“21:21.” Sokka says, like this is an important piece of information. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere but here,” Sokka replies, looking slightly worried that Zuko won’t agree to come. As if Zuko could say no to him.

“Okay,” Zuko says. 

That’s how he finds himself on the back of Sokka’s bicycle, in the surprisingly empty streets. Sokka’s looking ahead, clearly having some sort of destination in mind, and Zuko is trying to lean back, trying not to relish in their closeness. 

Sokka is hard not to look at, Zuko realizes. He’s the sort of beautiful that you wish you could hold in your hands, the sort of beautiful Zuko knows he isn’t meant for.

Sokka slows to a stop. “Here we are,” he waves his hands, like he’s in front of the most amazing structure humankind has ever seen. In reality, they’re in front of some sort of abandoned parking garage.

“Where are we?” Zuko asks, though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“My favourite place in the world,” Sokka breathes. 

“Your favourite place in the world is a parking garage?”

“No!” Sokka rolls his eyes, tugging Zuko with him into the darkened complex. “You’ll see.”

“What about the Halloween thing?” Zuko asks, thinking about how Katara will react when she notices they’re gone. God, he’s a shitty person.

“Did you really want to go to that party, Zuko?”

“No,” Zuko admits, “but I wasn’t planning on going to a bomb shelter, either.”

Sokka snorts. “Shut up. You will not talk badly about my emotional support ugly building.”

“Emotional support?” Zuko teases, but Sokka just shrugs.

“It’s just up here,” he says, leading Zuko up a small flight of concrete stairs. “Did I ever tell you that I used to be a competitive swimmer?”

“No,” Zuko replies, wondering where this is going. 

“Well, I was. And Katara and I used to come here every day to train.”

“Here?” Zuko starts to ask, but then he sees what Sokka’s been leading them to. It’s a huge pool, about the size of the one at the city’s recreation centre. “Wow.”

“Yep.” Sokka says, clearly pleased with himself.

“Um,” Zuko manages, trying not to think about the way Sokka glows in the blue light reflected off the water, “we probably shouldn’t be here.” 

Sokka waves his hand. “We’re fine. My dad’s friend is the caretaker. Now hurry up. You’ll have no chance of beating me if you don’t take off your shoes.”

“Beating you?”

“We’re obviously gonna race,” Sokka says. 

In moments like these, Zuko normally shies away. Most times, he’ll choose withdrawal over vulnerability. But Sokka makes him act differently, in other words, like an idiot. So he pushes Sokka into the water, greatly underestimating the momentum it takes to do, because he falls in as well.

“Hey!” Sokka sputters as he resurfaces, “you could have drowned me!”

Zuko snorts at that. “You were under the water for three seconds. You must suck at holding your breath.”

“Three seconds?” 

“Yep,” Zuko articulates. “You’re talking with the master of breath-holding, Sokka. If I were you, I’d be honoured.”

“The master,” Sokka echoes, smirking. “Sure.”

“It’s true,” Zuko asserts, listening to the quiet sounds of the water. “I was famous when I was a child.”

Sokka raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“Yep,” Zuko deadpans. “My name echoed in swimming pools.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, blue eyes sparkling with an emotion Zuko doesn’t quite understand. “First person to come up for breath loses.”

God, Sokka is so beautiful.

“Okay,” Sokka’s saying, “on three?”

Zuko nods. They countdown and—

He hates opening his eyes in the water. The chlorine stings, especially in his left eye. But he does it anyway. Just so he can look at Sokka. It doesn’t sting this time, instead, it feels like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff, with only the pain to keep him from toppling over, into the darkness. Sokka opens his eyes, immediately grinning at Zuko. They can only stare at each other, words unavailable underwater, and Zuko finds himself memorizing the moment, trying more openly than he's ever been brave enough to before. it's easy, with Sokka, to forget that he’s supposed to be apathetic. 

Sokka is staring back at him with a strange but not unwelcome intensity, and Zuko feels the flames flare up inside him, his heart rate increasing, betraying him as always. Still, he figures nothing can be done while they're underwater, so he's safe from further embarrassment. When Sokka inches forward, Zuko can’t help but smirk, thinking that Sokka’s already given up, that winning this stupid contest is far easier than he thought it would be. But then Sokka springs toward him and plants a light kiss on his lips, and Zuko recoils back in shock, losing control of himself and floating up to the surface.

Zuko’s blood is rushing through his ears when he's up, and he scrubs his face of the water, desperately wanting to open his eyes and see the world after he's been kissed by a boy to make sure it's all the same, that this isn’t some sort of sick joke. He blinks and Sokka is in front of him again, pumping his fist into the air with a victorious "yes!", and Zuko’s pulse is too quick, and he's too giddy to even think properly.

"Yes?" Zuko demands, trying to sound offended, but he knows his voice is too loud and he can't stop himself, everything in his brain shouting  **Sokka kissed you! Sokka fucking kissed you!** and leaving absolutely no room for critical thinking.

"I won!" Sokka’s grin is impossibly wide. Zuko knows, or at least he hopes, that Sokka is feeling the same sort of giddiness that he is. For the same reason.

"You didn't win, that was cheating!" Zuko manages, but he knows he’s smiling, he knows Sokka won’t take his tone seriously. They swirl around each other in the water, switching positions, giggling and bantering back and forth before Sokka suggests they go again.

Zuko feels that same giddiness, and it’s a welcome feeling. "Okay,” he says, mock-serious, “but no cheating this time!" Sokka holds his hands back in surrender, nodding along to his conditions. They count to three and go under again, the water a familiar, comforting weight this time, a place that Zuko knows is secure. That it’s safe.

He stares at Sokka for a few seconds only, committing the moment to memory, letting his nerve build-up, before Zuko shifts forward and kisses him this time, more purposeful, more gentle, more insistent. When their lips meet, it’s like electricity strikes. His mind goes blank, all that reverberates in his skull is Sokka. Sokka. Sokka. The world is nothing compared to the press of Sokka’s lips against his, the feeling of them drifting up together and breaking through the surface, both gasping for breath.

As soon as they’re free, Sokka's lips are on his again, lacing his hands in Zuko’s hair. Zuko’s never been this close to anyone before, not really. The feeling is intoxicating. He’s drunk on Sokka’s touch, on the gentle yet insistent kisses. When they break apart, after what seems like hours, Sokka is looking at him in a way no one has ever looked at Zuko. He’s looking at him like he’s in awe. 

Zuko leans forward, about to kiss him again, when Sokka’s head turns to the side in alarm, causing Zuko to accidentally press a wet kiss to his cheek. 

“Sokka?” A voice says, and Zuko nearly flinches from the way it echoes in the tiled room. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing!” Sokka says, tugging Zuko out of the pool, gesturing at him to grab his shoes. Zuko obliges. “You never saw us, Bato!”

Zuko prepares for some sort of harsh punishment, but the man, _ Bato, _ merely snorts. “Just get out of here, kid. I won’t tell Hakoda.”

"C’mon, Zuko," Sokka hisses, “let’s get out of here before he changes his mind.”

Zuko nods, heart still pounding as he follows Sokka back to his bike.

Once they're at a safe distance, and Sokka finally stops pedalling so fucking fast, Zuko can’t help but laugh. He can feel Sokka relaxing under his hands too, the bliss setting in, and his pace turns to something dreamy as they drift together through the streets. Zuko leans forward and allows himself to wrap his arms around Sokka’s waist, tucking his face against his back, and he offers up a smile to the world passing by in a blur before closing his eyes.

He wants to remember this night forever.

**_katara:_ ** _ where did you guys go? _

**SATURDAY. 2:15 PM.**

They’re laying in Zuko’s bed, his arms around Sokka’s waist. They’ve been like this for a long time, besides the times Zuko has gotten up to get them tea. 

Sokka’s fingers are gentle, tracing the outline of his scar. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, and Zuko wants so badly to believe him.

“Not like you,” he mumbles, hoping Sokka won’t hear how pathetic he sounds.

Sokka’s expression goes soft, and Zuko counts the freckles along his cheekbones, memorizes the location of the thin white scar under his lip. Sokka’s face reminds him of a painting, every detail more precise and breathtaking the closer you get to him. And he’s so close right now. 

Sokka's phone vibrates, breaking the comfortable silence they’ve settled into. Katara’s name flashes on the screen, joining the list of what appears to be eleven missed calls.

“I’m fucked,” Sokka rubs his eyes, leaning his head against Zuko’s, his hair soft on Zuko’s cheek. “Can I stay here forever?”

Zuko blinks softly at him, “yes,” he breathes. “You can.”

**SUNDAY. 9:32 AM.**

Sokka is gone when Zuko wakes up.

He left a note, a small drawing of Zuko sleeping with a promise to text him later, but Zuko can’t shake the expectation that it won’t happen. That tomorrow he’ll act as if they were never friends at all. He pours himself a cup of tea, tries to push the thought down.

Zuko decides to go to see Azula, after the administrator confirms he won’t tell their father. He’s probably breaking four different kinds of confidentiality laws, but he’s cheating on his wife, so it’s his own fault. 

“Hi,” Azula immediately sees right through him. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m so fucked,” he says. She rolls her eyes.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“SoImetthisguyandwemaybekissedbuthesortofhasagirlfriendandhissistermaybehasacrushonme.”

“Oh.” Azula blinks, actually looking a little shocked. “It is that bad. Do you live in a K-Drama?”

“Maybe,” He buries his head in his hands. “What’s wrong with me?”

“A lot.” Azula sighs, settling down next to him on her bed. “But who can blame you? Look at me.”

“You’re by far the most stable person in our family.”

Azula snorts. “Keep telling yourself that, Zuzu.”

He hates himself, a little. For the way he doesn’t talk to Azula about anything of real weight. For the way she must despise him for leaving her alone with their father.

“Zuko?” Azula pokes him, clearly more affected by his silence than she wants to be. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He says. “Uncle wants to meet with me.”

“You should do it,” Azula rolls her eyes. “He hates me, but he loves you.”

“He does not hate you.”

Azula raises a perfect eyebrow. “He doesn’t think of me as a daughter, though.”

**_zuko:_ ** _ can i come over next saturday? _

**_zuko:_ ** _ we can have tea. _

**_uncle:_ ** _ Looking forward to it, nephew! _

**MONDAY. 11:52 AM.**

Sokka isn’t in class on Monday. 

Zuko approaches Aang and Jet in the courtyard, having a conversation about something too loudly for him to process. “You’re telling me you didn’t see it?” Jet’s saying, grabbing Aang by his tiny shoulders. “It was your birthday.” 

“Fuck!” Zuko exclaims, causing both Jet and Aang to turn around, “it was your birthday.”

“Yeah,” Aang shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “It was.”

“I’m so sorry.” He makes an attempt at a hug, which Aang seems to enjoy despite Zuko’s poor form. “I had a family thing.”

Jet rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“What happened?” Zuko manages, making an effort not to look in Jet's direction.

“Jet set me up with Katara!” Aang chirps, grinning widely. “And we almost kissed!”

“You did?” Huh. Well, at least Katara moves on quickly.

“Almost?” Jet scoffs, ruffling Aang’s non-existent hair. “Yeah, sure.”

“We almost did!” Aang protests.

“What happened?” Zuko’s actually interested now, but he’s trying to maintain his typical apathy.

“You had to be there, man.” Jet replies. “It’s a long story.”

**WEDNESDAY. 10:34 AM.**

He’s running laps around the gym when he sees Sokka. He’s standing by the door, looking at him with an emotion Zuko can’t quite place. He’s always been weak, so when Sokka gestures at Zuko to follow him, he does. 

They’re standing in the locker room. It’s empty, as it usually is during this time.

“Hi,” Zuko manages. 

“Hey.” 

“Where have you been?” Zuko asks, and immediately regrets it. Why does he always have to sound so desperate? 

“I ended things with Suki,” Sokka says in lieu of a response. His expression is carefully neutral. “What do you think about that?”

“Awesome,” Zuko breathes, and cringes inwardly. He really is pathetic. “Well, uh, if it makes you sad, or uh..”

Sokka’s blue eyes betray a hint of amusement, the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

“I hope it’s not my fault... _? _ ” Zuko babbles, trying not to sound idiotic and failing miserably. 

“I’m not sad,” Sokka grins, and Zuko doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so effortlessly beautiful.

“No?” Zuko manages, trying not to sound too eager.

“No.” Sokka asserts, then they’re kissing, and it feels like a promise.

“Do you think,” Sokka says softly, when they’ve broken the kiss, “your family would be okay with us getting together?”

“Oh.” Zuko’s stomach does an involuntary flip. “I think it would be fine,” he lies.

“Yeah?”Sokka breathes, looking infinitely more at ease.

“My sister would be cool with it,” Zuko says, because Azula would be. “My uncle too.” That one might be a lie. He isn’t quite sure.

“What about your parents?”

“My mom’s not...around anymore, and my dad doesn’t care what I do as long as he doesn’t hear about it.” 

_Your mother didn't leave,_ his brain supplies, _she died._ _You’re a coward for not telling him._

“Do you think...” Zuko pauses, trying to find the right words, “Katara will be upset?”

“She’ll come around,” Sokka says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “It’ll be okay.” He presses a kiss to Zuko’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Zuko echos, watching him walk away. “Later.”

**FRIDAY. 9:32 PM.**

**_zuko:_ ** _ it was nice seeing you on wednesday. do you wanna hang out? i bought some more sugar just for your tea. :-) _

**_sokka:_ ** _ it was nice seeing you too, but maybe things are going too fast? i need some time. sorry. _

“Where are we going tonight?” Jet asks, elbowing Zuko in the ribs. “You’ve gotta know someplace.”

“I even put on a nice shirt!” Aang adds, bouncing in his seat. 

“And you look damn good,” Zuko deadpans. Aang grins. “You could go to Katara’s party,” he says it offhandedly because he would honestly rather be literally anywhere else. 

Jet, of course, does not take the hint. “We’re going,” he asserts, pulling Aang up from the couch. “Zuko, you’re our in.”

“If you know her well enough to call her up and invite her to Aang’s birthday, I doubt you need me.”

Jet rolls his eyes. “Zuko clearly has a ‘family thing’,” he says to Aang. “Let’s just go without him.”

“Please?” Aang asks, doe eyes pleading. 

“Fine,” Zuko replies, against his better judgement. “Let’s go.”

**FRIDAY. 9:47 PM.**

Katara’s house is so crowded that they’re not even allowed in. They’re just standing at the door while Jet tries to intimidate the self-appointed bouncer.

“Sorry,” the guy says. “I can’t let you in unless Katara says it’s okay." 

Zuko isn’t really paying attention. He’s looking through the doorway, at nothing in particular. Katara’s house is nice, but he doubts it’ll be that way when the party's over. It’s way too packed. Inside, he can make out most of his classmates. Then he sees Sokka. 

Obviously, Sokka would be here, it’s his house too. Obviously. Sokka clearly hasn’t seen him, because he’s laughing at something Suki’s said, his arm draped lazily around her waist. She leans into him, and Zuko feels so fucking stupid.

He pushes past the bouncer, not bothering to listen to the protests that he stay outside. 

“Oh,” Katara materializes next to him, her blue eyes wide. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Zuko blinks. “I’m sorry about—”

Katara interrupts him, clearly hellbent on saying whatever she’s thinking. “It was never me you liked, was it?”

Zuko blanches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re in love with Sokka,” she breathes. Her expression is a mix between contempt and pity. Zuko hates it. 

“That’s not—” he starts to defend himself, to say something, anything that will convince her otherwise, but he can’t do it. Because he can’t pull his eyes away from Suki and Sokka. They’re kissing, both looking delighted to be doing so. Zuko never finishes his sentence. “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole.” He tells Katara, and then he pushes his way out of the party, back to the front entrance where Jet and Aang still seem to be attempting to get in.

“What’s going on?” Aang asks, clearly trying to understand Zuko’s reaction. 

“I’m going home.” Zuko replies, walking past both of them. He has to get out of here. 

“What’s up his ass?” Jet’s talking to Aang, but his voice is loud enough that Zuko knows he wants him to hear it. He whirls around. 

“What is your problem, Jet?” He’s so fucking done with this. And maybe, just a little, he wants a fight. Something to get his mind off the fact that he is so clearly the fucking fool.

Aang shifts uncomfortably. “We’re just confused, Zuko. It seems like you’re unhapp—”

“You’ve been such a dick lately,” Jet interrupts.

Zuko clenches his fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grits out. “I’m going home.”

Jet grabs his wrist. “C’mon,” he says, looking a little sorry. “Let’s just go inside, okay? We can still have a good time.”

“No.” Zuko snaps. “Go without me.”

“Um.” Aang says.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jet drawls, turning to Aang. “He’s got family stuff.”

Zuko shoves him, hard enough that Jet stumbles back, all the mocking gone from his expression. “Fuck off.” He spits, doing his best not to storm off. He still does.

_ How could he have been so fucking stupid? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm taking the semester off uni so prepare for seven billion mediocre zukka fics coming your way in the near future. also, apologies if this is disjointed, i may or may not have lost this doc for like a week.  
> ANYWAYS. enjoy! 😽

**SATURDAY. 10:31 AM.**

“Nephew.” His uncle’s voice is patient but persistent. “Wake up.”

He jolts awake, nearly tipping over his now lukewarm tea in the process. “Sorry.”

Uncle’s expression is concerned, “have you been sleeping?”

“Sort of,” Zuko admits, rubbing his eyes. “A lot has been going on.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” Zuko snaps. “Yes,” he admits, “I don’t know.”

Iroh looks like he’s stifling a laugh. “That is a range of answers.”

“If you liked someone,” Zuko says, trying to choose his words carefully, “and it seemed like they liked you, and they made you feel like no one has ever made you feel before and you thought that it as going to last at least for a little while, but then they tell you that they need time without any real reason are you stupid for ever thinking they liked you at all?”

“It is brave to fall in love, Zuko.” His uncle drums his fingers on the table, the rhythm soft.

“Who said anything about lo-” Iroh fixes him with an expression that looks eerily like Azula’s. He shuts up.

“Perhaps this person fears the feelings they have for you. Perhaps she’s trying to protect herself. Is that not something you would do?”

“Yeah,” Zuko manages. “I guess it is. But even I wouldn’t be so cruel about it, Uncle. It’s like he wants me to hate him.” _Shit. He didn’t mean to give that away._

“Hmm,” his uncle says, making no sign that he even heard Zuko’s accidental pronoun slip. “Cruel in what way?”

“Kissing someone else.” Zuko tries to keep his voice impassive, but he knows his uncle sees right through him. 

“Have you tried speaking to this boy?” his uncle hums, grabbing Zuko a new cup of tea, and Zuko smiles despite himself. Acceptance is a strange feeling. 

“No,” he admits. “He looked happy, Uncle.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” His uncle muses, taking a dramatic sip of his tea.

“Yes,” Zuko allows, “but I don’t think this one was. I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I let myself believe he wanted me, and he doesn’t.”

“Oh, Zuko,” his uncle’s eyes are suddenly sad, and Zuko hates it. “I doubt that is the case. And if it is, it is his loss.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, standing up from the table, trying not to cringe at the sound of his chair scratching on the linoleum. “Sure. It was nice talking to you, Uncle.”

“You know I always enjoy your company,” Iroh replies with a sigh, gathering the empty cups of tea. “Zuko?”

“Yes?” He stops in his path to the door, waiting for the punishment. waiting for the taunting ‘ _I’m telling your father_ ,’ for anything negative.

“I’m proud of you,” Iroh says.

**MONDAY. 9:58 AM.**

Zuko feels entirely too exposed walking down through the schoolyard alone. He’s used to having Aang and Jet on either side of him, unwittingly alerting him to anyone coming up to him on his left side. He hates to admit it, but he could really use them right now. If, for nothing else, to avoid Katara’s gaze. She’s standing with her friends, not exactly looking at him but still looking at him. Across the courtyard, Sokka’s blue eyes bore into him. Zuko ignores him. He knows he’ll break if he returns Sokka’s gaze, and he’s tired of being the fragile one. 

“Hey,” Jet’s surprisingly calm when Zuko arrives at his locker, barely looking up from his own.

“I’m sorry about Friday,” Zuko says, though he can’t really tell if he sounds sorry or not.

“It’s whatever.” Jet replies, still not looking at him. “I’ll see you around, Zuko.”

“Oh.” Zuko manages. “Sure, yeah.”

For what feels like the millionth time in his life, a person he cared/cares/whatever about walks away from him, and doesn’t look back.

**TUESDAY. 2:03 AM.**

_“Because,” the girl says, “things don’t work like that. Happy endings were made up by poets and writers, and the rest of us have to live with the fact that it’s an unattainable dream.”_

_“You can’t actually believe that,” the boy replies._

_“I do.” The girl shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I used to think that if you were in love, everything else would fall into place. But that’s not how the world works. In reality, when all is said and done, love doesn’t overcome all. It overcomes very little, and someone always ends up hurt.”_

Zuko wants to hate Sokka, he really does. Anger is something he’s familiar with, something that used to make him numb to the sadness. It was so much easier to focus on. 

He stands at the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of jasmine tea. His reflection in the window stares back at him, empty. There’s nothing there.

Take away Jet and Aang, take away his visits to Azula, who is he? He’s always been a label rather than a person, the default golden child. Before Azula’s breakdown, he existed simply to make her look better. Now, he exists outside of his father’s orbit, cautiously. For fear that any extreme will bring Ozai back. And for all his loneliness, Zuko is much happier when the house is just him. When he's left by himself to wallow in his own patheticness. 

Being alone is something Zuko is comfortable with. But Sokka made him rethink that, made him think that maybe he didn’t have to be so isolated. That there was something good in being open with someone. 

Zuko should have known better than to believe that, better than to become so invested in someone who clearly didn’t feel the same way. He should have seen this coming. 

**WEDNESDAY. 10:05 AM.**

It’s never very busy at the cafe near the school. Probably because all the food is overpriced and none of the baristas look like they want to be there. Zuko doesn’t blame them. If he had to deal with caffeinated teenagers all day, he’d have a scowl etched on his face too. 

(In all honesty, he sort of already does.)

“Can I get a BLT?” Zuko asks the cashier, and she responds with what he assumes is an affirmative grumble, taking his offered money. 

He takes the sandwich when it's ready, careful to tip the worker. He’s perhaps too focused on that, because he nearly collides with the person next to him. 

“Sorry,” he manages, about to sputter another apology when he looks up and—

And it’s Sokka. And Zuko suddenly doesn’t feel like apologizing anymore. 

“Hi,” Sokka says, and he’s sort of smiling like he didn’t curb stomp Zuko’s stupid heart.

“Hi.” Zuko hears himself say, but it doesn’t sound like anything. It sounds empty.

“No tea?” Sokka asks, and his smile is soft, hesitant. Zuko absolutely hates it. “I thought—”

“No.” Zuko interrupts, taking no joy in the way Sokka’s smile fades. “I’ve gotta go.”

He pushes past Sokka, out into the cold of the street. He doesn’t look back.

**THURSDAY. 2:08 PM.**

“Do you want me to kill him for you?” Azula asks, studying her nails. “Cause I could totally kill him for you. And then Mr. Administrator could get me an insanity plea.”

Zuko snorts. He can’t tell if she’s joking or not. That’s pretty typical for any interaction with Azula. “It’s okay,” he says.

His sister shrugs. “Your loss.” Azula turns her gaze to him, amber eyes uncharacteristically soft. “You know, Zuko, Piandao says that nobody is an island. Or maybe he says that everybody is an island. I sort of zoned out when he was talking.”

“Okay…?”

“My point is,” Azula rolls her eyes like it’s obvious, “you don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I know.” Zuko says, even though he’s not sure he does.

“Do you?” Azula shrugs. “Whatever you say. But you should talk to someone. Who you aren’t related to.”

“I guess I could—” Zuko starts. Azula immediately interrupts him.

“Not Jet.”

**FRIDAY 1:59 PM.**

“Hi!” Aang finds him when school lets out, and Zuko takes it as a sign from the universe. “I’m sorry about Saturday, Zuko. I would have come to talk to you earlier, but I thought maybe you needed space. Did you need space..?”

“I’m okay,” Zuko replies, even though it’s clear he isn’t. “Are you busy?”

“No!” Aang chirps, “Why?”

“Do you wanna get smoothies? I’ll pay.” He and Aang never hang out one on one. Jet’s always there. “If you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy!” Aang repeats, looking delighted. ”Who would say no to a smoothie?”

_With Zuko? Most people_. “No one,” he replies. Aang grins. 

They find a bench near the river to sit, watching the ducks on the water. Aang is happily slurping some sort of vegan concoction that costs way more than it should. 

“You know how I’ve been sort of weird lately?”

“Yeah,” Aang says, a little too quickly. “I mean,” he rushes to correct himself, “ha! Barely?”

Zuko ignores him. “It’s...it’s because of the person that I like.”

“Oh,” Aang says, He looks a little sad. “Katara?”

Zuko can’t conceal his snort. “No. No, definitely not.”

Aang looks a little relieved. “Okay.” He chirps. “Who is it?”

“Guess.” Zuko says, because he doesn’t know if he’s ready to say it. To tell someone other than Azula or his uncle. 

“I’m terrible at guessing!” Aang whines, but he does look pensive. “Okay….is it Toph?”

“Toph’s a lesbian,” Zuko retorts, because everyone knows that.

“So? You never said it was requited….” Aang’s eyes get a far off look to them, “the heart yearns against all rhyme and reason…”

“Calm down, Shakespeare.” Zuko tries to sound snappish, but it’s half-hearted. Aang has that effect on people. “Try again.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Aang’s doing his puppy dog eyes. “Or give me a hint?”

“Fine,” Zuko relents, because Aang’s hard to say no to. “A hint. Um.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for any sort of reaction. “It’s not a girl.”

Aang’s eyes go wide. “Is it me? Zuko, I’m flattered, and you are ruggedly handsome but—”

“No!” Zuko interrupts him, trying not to laugh, “no, it’s not you.” _Ruggedly handsome?_

Aang pouts. “Am I so unappealing? Would you not marry me?”

Zuko snorts. “You’re very pretty, Aang.”

“Thank you,” Aang replies, immediately reassured. “Who is it?”

“Sokka,” Zuko breathes, and Aang tilts his head in permission. Zuko nods, and then Aang’s hugging him, thin arms wrapped around his torso. Normally, he’d flinch out of the embrace, but there’s something comforting about being in Aang’s presence. “It’s Sokka,” he says to Aang’s shoulder, cursing his own stupidity. 

“I’m sorry,” Aang says, and Zuko doesn’t even know what he’s sorry for.

“He’s with Suki,” Zuko replies. “And I thought...I don’t know what I thought. But it’s clear that I don’t matter to him.”

Aang’s phone rings, and he breaks the embrace to answer it, giving Zuko an apologetic glance.

Zuko puts his hands in his pockets, mostly for something to do. His knuckles brush across a piece of paper, a piece of paper Zuko knows wasn’t there the last time he checked. 

He unfolds the piece of paper. It’s a drawing of him, gazing out his kitchen window. There’s a caption, almost too tiny to read. 

_In another universe,_ Zuko recognizes Sokka’s messy scrawl, _I’d have stayed forever._

“Wow,” Aang breathes, looking over Zuko’s shoulder. He can’t even summon up enough energy to be angry at his nosiness. “He needs to end things with Suki.”

**_zuko:_ ** _thank you for the drawing. you’re really talented._

 **_zuko:_ ** _when did you put it in my pocket?_

**_read, 2:25 pm._ **

**SUNDAY. 4:34 PM.**

Toph comes over to study for their next history test. Zuko offers her tea, and she, surprisingly, accepts it. 

“Earl Grey is my favourite,” she tells him, as they sit at his kitchen counter, “they make it best at the Jasmine Dragon.”

“That’s my uncle’s shop,” Zuko replies, and Toph nearly spits out her tea. 

“You’re the nephew? Dude, your uncle never shuts up about you.” Toph punches him in the arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know you liked tea,” Zuko starts, but Toph waves him off. 

“Are you good, Sparky? Your uncle told me you were having some sort of crisis.”

“He did?” Zuko struggles to keep the panic out of his voice. “What did he say?”

“Calm down,” Toph tells him, actually sounding a little concerned. “He didn’t tell me anything. You’re fine.”

Zuko breathes a sigh of relief before the thought occurs to him: what would be so bad about Toph knowing? She’d probably have good advice, and if she didn’t, at least he’d get some good Sokka insults out of it. “Toph?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Toph says, taking a sip of tea. “But you should know, I charge by the hour.”

“Funny,” Zuko mutters, but he can’t really tell if she’s joking. He shivers to think what Toph and Azula could accomplish together. Probably world domination. “You know Sokka?”

“No,” Toph deadpans, taking another sip of her tea. “Yes, Zuko. I know who Sokka is.”

“Well,” Zuko says, pointedly ignoring her sarcasm, “we had a thing, you know. And,” he sighs, thinking about how pathetic he must sound, “he said it was over with him and Suki. But then he texted me and said things were going too fast, and...and he got back with her.”

“Ew,” Toph says. “I’ll punch him.”

“Then,” Zuko tries not to smile at Toph’s declaration, which is easy when he thinks about Sokka. “And then he left a note for me in my jacket pocket, and I thought…I don’t know what I thought, but I texted him to say thank you and he ignored my text.”

“Men,” Toph says. “Who needs ‘em?”

“Me,” Zuko deadpans. “Apparently.” 

“How honest do you want me to be, Sparky? Because I’ve been told on occasion that I lack tact.”

“You? Lacking tact?” Zuko snorts. “Never,” he sighs. “Um. Not too honest. No, you know what? Fuck it, just tell me.”

“Suki is safe,” Toph says. “And you’re a risk. Maybe Sokka doesn’t want to take a risk. There are a lot of guys in relationships who sleep with other guys. Most of the time they don’t break up with their girlfriends, though. Cause they’re too chickenshit.”

Zuko puts his head down on the counter. Beside him, Toph sighs. “I don’t know, Zuko. I’m not God, I could be wrong. He’s being stupid, as men often are. Maybe he’ll smarten up.”

Toph’s tiny hand slaps him on the back, with a surprising amount of force. “Listen,” she says, like Zuko wasn’t already listening to her. “We’re friends now, Zuko. So if you ever want someone to beat Sokka up, all you have to do is ask.”

“Get in line,” he mumbles, but he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.

**_smellerbee:_ ** _sorry, is it true that you’re gay?_

 **_zuko:_ ** _where did you hear that?_

 **_smellerbee:_ ** _people are saying you and sokka had a thing._

 **_zuko:_ ** _oh._

**WEDNESDAY. 11:38 AM.**

“You know,” Aang is saying, as they walk down the hall, “it’s so much more fun to argue with you than it is with Jet. You’re a great guy!”

Zuko blushes. Aang’s praises him far too frequently. “I’m really not,” he says. “I’m just a better arguer.”

“And not as mean!” Aang chirps, skipping off down the hallway. “I’ll see you later!”

Zuko can’t help smiling into his locker as Aang skips away. His locker, in response, delivers him something he’d probably be better off without. 

A letter from Sokka. It’s the same sort of soft sketching, this time of two phone screens. One shows Zuko’s message with no response, the other shows Sokka texting back. 

Another alternate universe.

_i miss you,_ Sokka’s hypothetical message reads. Zuko tries to ignore the ache in his chest. _Sokka didn’t actually send you that message,_ he reminds himself. _He just wants to keep you pining after him._

**FRIDAY. 6:26 PM.**

“I’m telling you,” Aang says to Toph, as he munches on green grapes. “Nothing gets a party started like a good Minecraft parody.”

“And I’m telling you,” Toph replies, “that I will kill you if you make me listen to Fallen Kingdom again.”

“You liked it!” Aang insists, almost glaring, “you just don’t want to admit it. I saw you nodding your head along to the lyrics.”

From his place on the couch, Zuko snorts. When he invited Aang over, he asked if Toph could come. Apparently, they know each other from some sort of mixed martial arts program.

“I kinda think you’re letting Sokka play you, Sparky,” Toph says, her unseeing eyes suddenly on his, like she’s looking into his soul. 

“Play me?” Zuko asks, suddenly anxious. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, Toph!” Aang chirps, “he left Zuko a note! That’s romantic.”

“All the notes do is keep him going,” Toph throws a grape at Aang. It bounces off his head. “And then nothing happens, and he’s still together with Suki.”

“You're not wrong,” Zuko says, because it’s not like he can deny it. “I can’t really do anything about it, though.”

“Actually,” Toph says matter-of-factly, “you can. Just text him, straight up, like, stop texting me. Call me when you and your boo thang have broken up. Then we can talk.”

“Boo thang?” Aang asks, eyes wide in amazement. He is very easily impressed. “I’d like a boo thang…” Toph glares in his general vicinity. He shuts up.

“That’s what works,” Toph tells Zuko. “Stop letting him have the upper hand, Sparky. He’s the one who should be waiting by the phone for you.”

Zuko composes a text along the lines of what Toph tells him and sends it before he can talk himself out of it. Toph whistles when she hears the sound of an outgoing text. “Damn,” she says. “Not bad.”

**_zuko:_ ** _thanks for the drawing, but if you’re not interested in something real, please stop messaging me. come find me if you decide to end things with suki, because i don’t exist to be your backup plan._

A moment later, his phone dings.

**_sokka:_ ** _what are you doing right now? can we talk?_

“He replied,” Zuko mutters, almost unbelieving. “That was quick.”

“Shit,” Toph says. “What did he say?”

“What are you doing right now? Can we talk?”

“Call him!” Aang exclaims, bouncing up and down, “call him and say—”

Toph interrupts him with a scoff. “Do not call him. Text him and say something about how you’re chilling at home. Make sure it sounds like you don’t want him to call you.”

“But I want him to call me,” Zuko tries. Toph shakes her head.

“You can’t let him know that. You have the advantage, Sparky. Don’t lose it.”

**_zuko:_ ** _chilling at home._

“He’s going to call,” Toph says, as soon as she hears the sound of the message being delivered. 

“I don’t think so,” most of this night has been a fluke. “I think I’m too much for him.”

“Shut up.” Toph says affectionately. Aang nods in agreement. “Self pity isn’t a good look on you, Zuko. Which is saying something, because I’ve heard that you’re pretty enough to pull off almost anything.”

Zuko snorts. “Who said that?”

“Aang.”

Aang blushes a bright red. “Toph! You said—” He’s interrupted by the doorbell. “Did you invite someone else?”

“Who would I invite?” Zuko replies, moving to look at the front door display—Jesus Christ, he really does live in the house from Parasite. “You two are the only friends I–” The rest of his sentence dies on his lips. It’s Sokka.

“Who is it?” Aang asks, oblivious to Zuko’s internal strife.

“Sokka,” he says, in a voice that barely sounds like his own. “Sokka is standing at my door.”

“Well,” Toph says, clearly decided. “Aang and I are going out the back door.”

“We are?” Aang asks. Toph elbows him. “I mean, yes, we are. Tell Sokka we say hi!”

“Do not do that,” Toph tells Zuko, putting on her boots. “Call me if you need someone to beat him up. I heard that hitting someone with a phonebook doesn’t leave any bruises. I’d like to have someone to try it out on.”

“Please be joking,” Aang says. He looks slightly horrified.

“I’m joking,” Toph deadpans, and then she drags Aang out the back door with surprising force. 

“Well,” Zuko says to the silence, “I guess I should answer the door.”

The empty room, as expected, does not respond.

Zuko steps down into the entryway, trying to steady his breathing as he opens the door.

Sokka looks beautiful, but he always does. His cheeks are tinged pink from the cold, blue eyes wide and vulnerable. Like he didn’t expect Zuko to open the door. 

“Hey,” Zuko says, making an attempt at neutrality. It clearly isn’t working, but Sokka doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hey,” Sokka echoes. 

Impulsively, Zuko tugs Sokka into a kiss, closing the door behind him. He’s always been reckless, but never like this. Never so foolishly optimistic. It’s stupid, he knows, to expect things to suddenly be different. But right now everything is Sokka, and he can’t think of anything else.

**SATURDAY. 11:11 AM.**

Zuko is alone when he wakes up. What was he expecting, really? _Stupid_ , he chides himself, as he goes into the kitchen to make tea. _Stupid, stupid, stupid—_

_Stupid?_ Sokka is standing in the kitchen, his back to Zuko. He’s cooking what appears to be an omelette. Zuko snorts at the ridiculousness of it all. Of what his father would say if he knew there was a strange boy using his expensive stove. 

Sokka grins when he turns around, taking his omelette off the heat to pull Zuko into a kiss. It’s surprising, but not unwelcome. Zuko knows he’s blushing. 

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Sokka says, going back to the stove, “so I made omelettes. Is that okay?” He doesn’t look eager so much as hesitant, like he’s worried Zuko is going to throw him out. 

“That’s...that’s good, thank you,” Zuko manages. “When I woke up, I thought you left.” 

“I didn’t,” Sokka says softly, turning off the stove. “I was just making something to eat.”

Zuko tries again, steeling himself for the answer. “Does Suki know you’re here?”

“Suki and I are done.” Sokka replies, and Zuko wants so badly to believe him.

“The last time you said that, you were making out with her two days later.” Zuko cringes inwardly at how desperate he sounds, “I’m not going to compete for your affection, Sokka. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to her.” Huh. He’s really on a roll with this self-confidence thing.

“Suki and I will always care about each other,” Sokka says, “but we stopped being a couple a long time ago. It just took us a while to figure that out.”

“Huh,” Zuko responds, incredibly eloquently. “Okay.”

“What I feel with you,” Sokka steps closer, and Zuko takes an involuntary breath. “I’ve never felt with anyone.” Their foreheads are nearly touching, and Sokka’s eyes are impossibly blue. He’s so unfairly beautiful. 

“Same,” Zuko manages, internally chiding himself for sounding so stupid, “you really hurt me, Sokka.”

“I’m sorry,” Sokka breathes, his lips inches from Zuko’s. “I didn’t want you to get caught up in my storm, I guess.”

“Your storm?” Zuko manages, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a metaphor,” Sokka protests, “give me a break!”

Zuko snorts. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Sokka echoes, and then they're kissing.

**TUESDAY. 12:55.**

**_father:_ ** _I’m tired of your insolence, Zuko. Do you think I can’t see what you're up to? I give you freedom and you thank me by having your friends over at all hours of the day. From now on, you and your sister are on your own._

 **_zuko:_ ** _where are we supposed to stay?_

 **_father:_ ** _Keep the house, I don’t care. As long as I never have to see you two again._

Zuko laughs aloud at that, though it sounds more like a sob than it should. Only _mother fucking_ Ozai would have enough money to give a mansion on the waterfront to his mentally ill children. It’s like something out of an episode of Black Mirror. Or maybe one of his childhood dream journals. It's almost unthinkably ridiculous that his father's breaking point is his least favourite child actually having friends.

“Forgot to do the assignment?” Toph asks, sliding into the seat next to him. “Don’t worry, I photocopied mine. Teacher won’t know the difference.” 

“Thanks,” Zuko manages, but it sounds empty even to him. Toph frowns.

“What’s wrong?” She asks quietly, scooting closer to him. “Do I need to punch someone?”

“Just my dad,” Zuko says. “He’s cutting us off. My sister and I.”

“Why?” Toph furrows her eyebrows. “You’re like twelve.”

“Eighteen.” Zuko corrects.

“Same thing.” Toph sighs. “Are you gonna be okay? My parents suck, but I could probably sneak you into the garage.”

Zuko laughs, despite himself. “It’s fine,” he tells her, even though he knows it isn’t. “We still have a place to live, even if he’s decided we are no longer related to him.”

Toph raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“Yes,” Zuko agrees, “but my father will take any opportunity to flaunt his wealth, even if it means indirectly supporting the children he despises.”

**TUESDAY. 2:50.**

“Wow!” Aang says when Sokka approaches them in the courtyard. “I’m a big fan!” Toph elbows him in the ribs. “I mean, uh, nice to meet you, finally.”

“You’re Aang, right? Katara’s told me all about you.” Sokka grins.

Aang goes bright red at that, moving nervously from foot to foot. “Really? Like what?”

Sokka waves his hand, “the usual.” Aang looks too shaken up to speak.

“Ugh,” Toph groans. “Is this the loser we got kicked out of your house for?”

“Toph!” Zuko hisses, but she pays him no mind. 

“You kicked them out?” Sokka’s eyes are wide, in mock indignation. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”

“You better believe it,” Toph responds, punching him in the shoulder. A little too hard, if the way Sokka winces is any indication. “I hope you’re worth it, pretty boy.”

Zuko grins, despite everything else in his life going to. “He’s worth it.”

Sokka smiles softly. Like he’s taking in the moment. And it really is nearly a perfect moment, until Zuko’s phone dings, and he’s reminded why there’s a pit at the bottom of his stomach, threatening to consume him.

**_azula:_ ** _i’ve been informed about father. looks like i’m coming home_ 😹

 **_zuko:_ ** _i’m so sorry_

 **_azula:_ ** _don’t be dramatic, dumb dumb. it’s not your fault that our father is the human equivalent of 911 leaving you on read._

 ** _zuko:_** _that was a convoluted_ _insult_ 🧐 

**_azula:_ ** _i changed my mind everything is ur fault_

**THURSDAY. 6:57 PM.**

“This is..” Azula starts, dropping her bags onto the living room floor, “dreary.”

“Hey!” Zuko protests, despite the fact that she’s definitely right. “It’s wasn’t even really my house before, and anyways, I didn’t have much time for interior design while I was—”

“Brooding,” Azula interrupts, rolling her eyes, “yes, I know.” 

Zuko snorts. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Azula fixes him with a look that tells him he knows better than to ask that question. “Piandao says he’ll keep seeing me. And Uncle said he’d pay for it.”

“Since when do you talk to Uncle?”

“You’re not the only person who knows how to talk to old people, Zuko. And I was ready to leave the facility anyways.” 

“Okay,” there’s nothing else he can say to that, not really. They both know that it doesn’t matter how ready she was. “I love you, Azula.”

Azula gags at the affection. But then her expression softens. “I love you too.” She says, quieter than he’s ever heard her. “Now, I’m going grocery shopping. You have terrible taste in food. I fully feel like I’m on an episode of kitchen nightmares.”

Zuko snorts. Some things never change. At least he can take comfort in that.

**SATURDAY. 10:42 AM.**

“This is quite the predicament,” Iroh muses, and Zuko watches as Azula slurps her bubble tea obnoxiously, trying not to think about the severity of the situation. 

“Yeah,” Zuko manages when Iroh looks at him expectantly, “but it isn’t surprising. We all knew this was going to happen eventually, right?”

Azula nods, “it was all downhill from birth.”

Zuko snorts. Iroh pales a little at that. “You two certainly have an…..interesting outlook on life.”

Azula takes it for the compliment it clearly isn’t, “thank you, Uncle. I believe it’s the childhood trauma.”

“Anyways,” Zuko coughs, trying to hide a laugh, “Azula and I both have some money saved, Uncle. Don’t feel obligated to check in on us, but I’m sure we’d both apre-”

“I will come over often, perhaps I’ll even move in,” Iroh interrupts, with the biggest smile Zuko has ever seen. Azula looks completely caught-off guard, though she covers it by returning to her bubble tea. “You’ll be sick of me before too long.”

He makes eye contact with Azula from across the table. They aren’t used to being cared for, but it's not an unwelcome feeling.

  
  


**_katara:_ ** _can we talk?_

 **_zuko:_ ** _sure?_

 **_katara:_ ** _meet me at school at seven tonight._

**SATURDAY. 7:03 PM.**

Katara’s already in the schoolyard when Zuko gets there, her hair up in a ponytail. “Hi.” He manages, cursing inwardly when she doesn’t respond to his tiny wave. She’s still upset. It’s not like he can blame her for that.

“I’m gonna get right to it,” Katara says, blue eyes flashing with something Zuko can’t quite read. “Sokka has fallen in love with every person he’s ever dated. And Suki’s the only one who has ever stuck around. There’s a reason they’ve been on and off so long.”

“Oh.” Zuko can feel the anxiety approaching, “okay.”

“He’ll get tired of you,” she states, clearly making an attempt at appearing unfazed by the harshness of what she’s saying, “just prepare yourself for that, I guess. I know you don’t think I do, but I like you, Zuko. And I don’t think you should get too invested in him. For your own sake. Break it off before you get too attached.”

“Oh,” he repeats, trying not to sound utterly fucking devastated. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Katara shrugs like they’ve just been talking about something inconsequential, like she didn’t just prove everything the little voice in his head says to him as fact. She gives him a short nod, and then she’s gone. 

He walks home instead of taking the bus. Azula makes him a cup of tea when he gets home, looking uncharacteristically concerned. But she doesn’t ask, and Zuko is grateful for that. He doesn’t even know what he’d tell her.

**_sokka:_ ** _i just heard a song that reminded me of you_

 **_zuko:_ ** _i’ve never reminded anyone of a song before_

 **_sokka:_ ** _intersection by modern baseball <3 _

**_zuko:_ ** _thanks._

 **_sokka:_ ** _is everything okay?_

 **_zuko:_ ** _i think we should stop talking. why prolong the inevitable, right?_

He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, trying desperately to ignore the pit in the bottom of his stomach. 

**MONDAY. 12:54 PM.**

“You’re being stupid,” Toph says, when Zuko finishes lamenting. “You’re being really fucking stupid.”

“I don’t think I am,” Zuko snaps, “Katara says-”

“Who cares what Sugar Queen says?”

“She’s his sister, she’d know.”

“You also led her on for like a month,” Toph shushes him with a wave before he can interject, “she’s a little biased.”

“She doesn’t seem like someone who’d lie,” Zuko protests.

“Maybe she thinks she’s being honest. Maybe she really does want to help. But it’s not like she speaks for Sokka, you fucking dumbass. He’s not brain-dead.”

“Oh,” Zuko manages, wondering why he didn’t think of it like that before, “Yeah. You’re not wrong.”

  
“I never am,” Toph smirks. “Now help me throw pebbles in Jeong Jeong’s open window.”

**FRIDAY. 9:17 PM.**

He doesn’t see or hear from Sokka until Friday. It isn’t for lack of trying, Zuko’s called him enough times to border on being irritating. Or maybe he crossed that line, probably when he called the first time. There’s a reason no one ever talks on the phone anymore. 

He goes to his mother’s grave, for the first time since Azula’s emotional breakdown. She has a beautiful tombstone, the engraved fire lilies matching the small bouquet he’s brought to place at her grave. They were always her favourite flower. The one thing she loved that Ozai couldn’t des

The cemetery is completely unoccupied, exactly the way Zuko prefers it. The wind is the underlying soundtrack, soft whistling as it brushes through his hair. It’s nearly winter, and the cold is beginning to turn, to change to the ferocity it has in the early months of the year.

It was cold the day his mother died, the sort of winter that wasn’t comforting, just desolate. Like there was nothing left to cling to. He couldn’t do anything but watch as everything that was already so close to breaking completely fell apart. Azula screamed at the nurse. Ozai wasn’t there. 

A pretty accurate representation of their family. Ursa was gone, Zuko was weak, Azula fought, and Ozai couldn’t have cared less. 

He’s roused out his reminiscing by his phone vibrating.

**_sokka:_ ** _hi zuko. i’m sitting at the bench where we first spoke. katara told me what she said to you. she was just trying to look out for me, i guess. there’s so many things that i want to tell you. i want to say i’m sorry for hurting you. i’m sorry for everything. for dragging you into my mess. i wanted some sort of excuse, for you to have an out, i guess. it made a lot more sense in my head. someone like you isn’t meant for someone like me. you’re light years ahead of me, and i was afraid of losing you. i forgot that it isn’t possible to lose anyone. cause in the end we’re all alone._

 **_sokka:_ ** _it’s almost 21:21. maybe in another universe, we’re together. i hope so. i don’t think i could bear it if there isn’t at least one version of me that gets to make you happy._

 **_sokka:_ ** _love you._

Zuko blinks. He looks at the message. Rereads it. Rereads it again.

_in the end we’re all alone. in the end we’re all alone. in the end we’re all alone._ He stares at that sentence so long that the words start to blur together. 

_“In the end,” his mother had said to him, three days before she died, “we’re all alone. All I have left is you and Azula, and Azula hates me.” Zuko knew then that he wasn’t enough. Not even for his mother. That through her drug-addled haze, even Ursa knew how little he mattered._

Zuko is running out of the graveyard before he can talk himself out of it, before he over-analyzes every last line of Sokka’s text. He’s never been a particularly fast runner, but his gym teachers always seemed to be impressed with his stamina, and Zuko prays that counts for something. 

Zuko runs until his lungs burn, until his muscles threaten to give out, but he doesn’t stop until he sees Sokka, sitting on that stupid bench, head in his hands.

Sokka doesn’t seem to hear him approaching.

He’s so beautiful, breathtakingly so. 

“Hi, Zuko here,” he says quietly, too scared of breaking whatever calm Sokka has settled into to think about how stupid he sounds. Sokka’s head jerks up, his eyes widening at the sight of him. 

Sokka blinks at him with blue eyes and wet cheeks, and Zuko nearly loses his resolve.

Nearly.

His hands are shaking and it’s cold and he can’t comprehend his own stupidity, but he kneels on the sidewalk in front of Sokka, looking to him for permission before he reaches up and cups Sokka’s face in his hands. 

Sokka nods shakily, and Zuko pushes their foreheads together. “You dumbass,” he swallows a shaky sob, wondering how so much has changed in a month and a half, how quickly Sokka pulled him out of apathy. “You haven’t lost me, okay? We just got all our stupidity out in the first few weeks. It should be smooth sailing from here on out.”

Sokka breathes out something between a laugh and a sob, so Zuko continues. 

“I’m lonely literally all the time,” Zuko tells Sokka, “and I know what it’s like to lose people. But you haven’t lost me, okay? And you never will. Even if we’re both lonely, at least we can be lonely together.”

He leans in, just an inch, and Sokka surges forward, pushing their lips together. Zuko can taste his tears. 

**SATURDAY. 12:30 PM.**

“Zuzu,” Azula’s voice buzzes over the intercom Zuko wishes his father had never installed, “there’s a pretty girl with loops in her hair at the door to see you.”

_Pretty girl. Hair loops. Katara._ Beside him, Sokka doesn’t stir, his chest rises and falls slowly in the steady rhythm of sleep. Zuko sighs. 

He’s managed to look somewhat presentable by the time he opens the door and looks into Katara’s sheepish expression. “I thought Sokka would want some clean clothes,” she says, shoving a plastic bag into Zuko’s hands. 

Zuko blinks. Katara blinks back, looking conflicted. “I’m sorry,” she says, after what feels like an hour of them simply looking at each other, of Zuko trying not to look like he’s in pain. “This is going to sound terrible, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I was wrong, okay? About Sokka.”

Her blue eyes are scarily sincere. “I’m not used to being second best, and I guess I thought I could pretend that you did the wrong thing by… I don’t know, choosing him over me?”

“I’m gay,” Zuko deadpans, nearly grinning at how easily the statement rolls off his tongue, “I doubt our relationship would have been joyous.”

Katara barks out a laugh that sounds more than a little like a sob, “I told you, it sounds terrible.” She takes a step back, turning to leave before she seems to think better of it, “you two seem to be good for each other,” Katara tells him, like she didn’t just say the exact opposite last week. “Maybe one day we can be friends.” She doesn’t wait for a response, leaving Zuko dumbfounded at the doorstep. He used to think anger was the only emotion he was fully capable of, but here, in a situation where he should probably be angry, he doesn’t feel that. He and Katara probably aren’t that different, when it comes down to the things that really matter. And Zuko can’t fault her for doing something he probably would have done this time last year, when he was still head over heels in love with the idea of Jet. 

“Stop letting the cold air in,” Azula drawls as if she’s sensed his internal strife. “I haven’t had access to a kitchen in months, so I’ve made breakfast. Come join us.”

“Us?” Zuko asks, before he walks into the kitchen and sees Sokka sitting at the counter, Zuko’s oversized hoodie draped over his athletic shoulders. He looks slightly terrified. A typical reaction for someone meeting Azula for the first time. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Azula mimics, motioning for him to sit down beside her. “I was just asking Sokka what his intentions were with you, and he said, and I’m quoting directly here, ‘get married and have two kids and a dog and stuff,’ so I’ve made the executive decision to never ask him another question about you ever again.”

Sokka goes bright red, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Zuko probably has a similar expression. “Oh.” He says.

“Yes,” Azula replies, “so you’ve said. Who was the pretty girl at the door?”

“Sokka’s sister,” Zuko tells her, throwing the plastic bag in Sokka’s direction. It hits him in the face. Azula cringes, though it’s unclear what she’s cringing at.

“Katara?” Sokka’s expression has turned scarily neutral.

“Do you have another sister?” Azula deadpans, looking in between Zuko and Sokka. “Do you two share a brain cell or something?”

“Something like that,” Zuko mutters. Azula doesn’t seem to hear him. “She was just dropping off some clothes for you to wear,” he tells Sokka, who looks less than pleased at Katara’s intrusion. “She was pretty nice, actually. Considering-”

“Considering you stole her heart and her brother,” Azula finishes, a hint of a smirk on her lips. 

“Not what I was going to say,” Zuko replies. “At all.”

His little sister shrugs. “We were all thinking it.”

“We were not,” Zuko blanches, but to his dismay, Sokka giggles. 

“Were we not?” Sokka says, blue eyes wide with feigned dismay. “You stole me away, Zuzu. My white knight atop a fiery steed.”

“You did not just quote _I Need A Hero.”_

“I was going for the fairy godmother from _Shrek Two_ ,” Sokka shrugs innocently, “but that works too.”

Azula snorts. “Can we keep this one?”

**THURSDAY. 7:58 PM.**

It’s a long weekend, and Azula has decided to throw herself a welcome back (to the functioning world, she always adds) party. The thing is, she doesn’t have many friends who are allowed off the premises of the incredibly high-end rehab centre she used to be in, so she’s forced Zuko to invite pretty much anyone he’s ever come into contact with.

This means that his party is full of people he either barely knows or would rather have never met, save for a few people he tolerates. One of which is Toph, who is currently taking twenty dollars out of his wallet.

“You should never have bet against me, Sparky.” She pockets the cash, “I always win.”

“I didn’t even want to bet!” Zuko’s voice is more shrill than he’d like. “It’s not my fault I don’t understand Aang’s flirting strategy.”

“Actually,” Toph says, elbowing him in the side, “it is. And I thought I was giving you an easy win, too. I thought no way vegan boy would make the first move.”

“But he did,” Zuko sighs, watching Katara blush as she and Aang pull back from their somewhat messy kiss. “And he did it on my living room couch.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” Toph retorts. “Have you seen Suki?”

Zuko shrugs, despite knowing the gesture is futile. “Last I saw her, she and Azula were going into my dad’s old room.”

Toph whistles. “Kinky. I can get behind that.”

Zuko nearly chokes on his non-alcoholic (take that, Uncle Iroh) beverage. “Gross. That’s my sister.” 

“At least you don’t have to watch them make out,” Sokka’s arms wrap around Zuko’s waist, and he leans into the touch. Sokka’s always cautious about their contact, always makes his presence known before he initiates any sort of snuggling. Zuko didn't even have to ask him to do that, and he’s not sure Sokka knows just how much it means to him. He makes the mental note to awkwardly voice his appreciation later, when Toph isn’t around to (lovingly) make fun of them. “I was standing two feet away from Katara when Aang stuck his tongue down her throat.” 

Toph snorts. “Aw,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Poor Sokka.”

“Poor Sokka,” Sokka echos, ignoring Toph’s goading. “Poor, poor Sokka.”

Toph rolls her eyes, and Zuko bites back a laugh. “I hate gay people.” 

“Aren’t you-”

“Did I stutter?” Toph interrupts, downing her beer in one swig. For a person so small, her alcohol tolerance is surprisingly high. 

“No,” Zuko replies, deadpan. “You did not.”

“That’s what I thought,” Toph says, and then she marches off to find someone, probably Smellerbee. 

Sokka laughs as she walks away, slender fingers playing with Zuko’s hair. 

He’s more than a little in love with Sokka. And the fact that the party is loud, though not entirely unbearable, cements that fact. He theorizes that he wouldn’t mind being nearly anywhere if Sokka was beside him.

It’s not an incorrect assumption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls pls pls leave a comment or kudos if u enjoyed this it literally makes my year


End file.
